


Bad Girl Go Good

by lovehugsandcandy



Category: Ride or Die (Visual Novel)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-27
Updated: 2019-10-27
Packaged: 2021-01-04 05:01:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,832
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21191987
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lovehugsandcandy/pseuds/lovehugsandcandy
Summary: Ellie knows she shouldn’t try to make Colt jealous. She knows this. She just…does it anyways.





	Bad Girl Go Good

Ellie looked over, biting her lip, mulling his question over in her head; she was vividly remembering when she got here, only an hour before, a kiss on the forehead and a low portent in whisper. “I need to take some meetings. Be good.” 

This? This would not be good.

“Come on.” The guy (Ryan? Bryan? Something like that?) placed a gentle hand on her hip. “Just one dance.”

Ellie sighed through her nose. Whatever his name was, he was right; she knew that this wasn’t a date when Colt took her to the sideshow, she knew he was here on business, but she was hoping for a little bit more consideration than a head nod. She glanced over, once more, but he was thoroughly engaged in a conversation with a stranger whose stupid spiked hair and neck tattoo were obviously much more worthy of attention than she was.

“Fine.” She turned back to the guy in front of her, all hopeful eyes and preppy blazer, someone she would have never noticed if she weren’t being ignored. She didn’t even know if she would be seen, if it would evoke any kind of jealousy, but a large, bitter part of her hoped. “Just one dance.”

He took her hand to lead her into the dance floor, not noticing the frown on her face. She didn’t want to dance with this unnamed boy. She didn’t want to hold his hand or stop in the middle of the dance floor or start to move as he tried to talk in her ear. She definitely didn’t want to smell the alcohol of his cologne while he pulled her close to move to the beat.

She hazarded a glance through the crowd, past the drunken revelers and exhaust smoke; Colt still stood in the same spot, speaking to someone different now, but she could tell he was standing ramrod straight, hands in fists in his pockets. _Great_. If his work was going poorly, maybe she would be stuck here for hours.

She was relieved when the song ended, pulsing beat fading into something sultry and heated, but the stranger caught her arm when she turned. 

“One more dance.” Pleading eyes caught hers. “Please.”

She looked around again and this time she couldn’t see Colt; he had moved out of sight of the makeshift dance floor. It may be petty but she knew his jealous streak; she knew the surest way to be pulled towards the exit would be to show interest in someone else. She tried to suppress her eye roll but wasn’t quite sure she succeeded. “Fine. Last dance.”

“Okay.”

She felt guilty. The guy in front of her seemed sweet, with a cute smile and hesitant dance steps that were worlds away from moody boys in leather jackets who clasped her hips like he owned them. It wasn’t this stranger’s fault that he wasn’t at all what she wanted. She sighed and tightened her arms around his shoulders, resolving to finish this dance and find Colt.

But when the dance had ended and she made her way out of the crowd, she found that it was neither easy to find Colt nor to get rid of her random dance partner, who had follow close behind. 

“Hey, Ellie?” Crap. How did he know her name and she didn’t know his? She felt even guiltier.

She glanced around for Colt again but he had completely vanished. “Yeah?”

“Listen, I was having a great time dancing with you. I’d love to see you again sometime.” He stepped closer, eyes hopeful.

“I actually have to-” She gasped when he leaned even closer, intention crystal clear, his eyes trained on her lips. _Crap_. It was almost slow motion, his slow lean, her shock, her stepping away, and then the hand on her forearm, pulling her backwards so, instead of anonymous stranger, all she could see was familiar leather adorning a familiar shoulder.

“Back off.” _Crap_. Colt’s voice was barely restrained, the calm, even tone more frightening than a shout would have been. His hands were in fists, squaring off against the preppy boy, and Ellie felt her stomach clench. Guilt? Pride? Anticipation? She had seen those hands punch and grapple and fight; she had also felt those hands do other things that made her insides squirm.

The nameless boy took two large steps back, hands up in surrender, trying to put space between himself and the storm in front of him. “Whoa whoa whoa, man, I didn’t mean-”

“I said back off.” Colt didn’t even need to raise his voice before the kid fled, disappearing into the crowd so quickly she would have sworn it had all been a figment of her imagination.

_Except_.

The look in Colt’s eyes? Dark. Dangerous. Calculating. Furious.

The butterflies in her stomach? Eager. Nervous. Anticipating. Impatient.

“Let’s go,” he huffed, curtly.

She could only nod.

~~~~~

The ride home was silent. Granted, it was hard to hold a conversation with the rush of wind ripping through motorcycle helmets, but neither Colt nor Ellie even tried. His back was tense the entire way, muscles rigid underneath her fingertips as she clung to him. She had no problem playing with fire, had never been scared of the burn, but maybe she went too far this time? 

Or maybe, as far as she and Colt were concerned, maybe there was no too far.

He threw the bike in park and barely waited for her to slide off before he was gone, throwing his helmet down and storming up to their room, stomping the entire way in a pique of rage. Ellie knew why he was pissed. She knew exactly why, the tremor in her stomach marking her as guilty, a willing participant in stoking his jealousy. 

She followed, slowly, knowing he would need a few minutes on his own to cool down. She needed him jealous but not furious. Carefully schooling her face into her most innocent expression, long lashes batting in front of doe eyes, she walked into the room. “What’s wrong?”

He was facing away from her, shoulders raised, but spun when he heard the question. “What’s wrong.” His voice was unnaturally flat. Calm. Impassive. _Crap_.

“You, ah. You just seem. Upset?”

“Seriously?” He ripped his jacket off his shoulders and threw it to the floor. “Seriously? I’m in meetings for ten minutes and the next thing I know, some guy has his hands all over you?”

“That isn’t exactly what-”

“Isn’t it?” He stepped closer, eyebrows drawn into a dark angle that cautioned at the danger ahead. Apparently she had stopped being good at heeding these warnings, though, preferring to head straight into the unknown than remain on the sidelines of her old life.

She blinked at him, chin against her chest demurely. “Well, you weren’t exactly paying attention to me.”

“So you decided to pay attention to someone else?”

She looked at the floor. “It was just one dance.”

“Two dances and he tried to kiss you.”

“You were ignoring me.”

“So you decided this would get my attention?”

She flushed. Apparently Colt had been watching the entire exchange. She studied the floor, knowing that it was better to wait than respond. He walked toward her, slowly circling as Ellie fought every instinct to look up. She felt like prey as he stalked around her, predatory; she was a fly in a web, a mouse in a trap, and he was a ravenous creature going to destroy her in the most delicious way possible.

Finally, when Ellie’s toes were curled, pressing into the floor with the herculean effort of staying still, he spoke, voice dark. **“I’m going to remind you exactly who you belong to.”**

She sucked in a breath through her nose, watching as he backed up to lean against the desk, crossing his arms in a feigned display of relaxation. But there was nothing relaxed about the fire in his eyes.

“Are you gonna be good for me, Ellie?” 

“Yes,” she whispered, barely a breath.

“I feel like you planned this.”

Her eyes widened and she liked her lips before responding, watching his eyes ravenously follow every twitch of her tongue. “I’m gonna be so good for you, Colt. Only you.”

“Then strip.”

She swallowed and, never dropping his heated gaze, slowly peeled off her shirt, raising the hem over the butterflies in the stomach, over the purple lace of her bra, over the flush in her cheeks, throwing it on the floor. His eyes never left her, a slow trail over exposed skin.

“Keep going.”

She nodded. Pants next. He looked hungry, gaze sharp on every move of her hands, unbuttoning her pants and sliding them over her legs, kicking off her heels along the way. She could feel the goosebumps erupt over her body, the cool air and anticipation making her limbs tingle. 

He nodded, pointedly, and she waited a beat before she kept going, nimble fingers easily getting her bra off. Another nod and her underwear joined the pile on the floor. She waited, cautious eyes following his every move, as he pushed himself off the desk and strolled over to circle her again, eyes roving up and down her bare skin. Maybe she should feel awkward, stark naked while Colt was fully dressed, eyes raking over her. But she couldn’t feel anything but powerful, commanding his attention and controlling the intensity in his gaze without saying a word, a willing participant in his thrall.

Finally, he sauntered back to his desk and all it took was the crook of one index finger for Ellie to move, drawn like a moth to the fire in his eyes.

“Bend over the desk.” He moved out of the way so she could lean, position herself so she was on top of her school work, research on 18th century literature for an essay that she wouldn’t be able to finish without thinking about this very moment, her bare ass in the air, dark oak clutched between her fingers as she waited for Colt to punish her, to fuck her, to do something, _anything_.

He was right behind her and then everywhere as he leaned over. **“You’ve been so bad, haven’t you, baby?”** She could feel him, cotton t-shirt against her bare back, lips moving against her neck as he spoke. 

She could only whine in response, caged between him and the desk.

“Ellie. Baby. You promise you’re gonna be good for me now?”

“_Yessss_.” She tried to move her hips back, to grind her ass right where she knew he would be hard and wanting, but strong hands on her hips stopped her, keeping her in place.

“If you want me to stop, just stay the word.”

“I know.”

“Count.”

She barely had time to inhale before the first hit landed, open palm on the flesh of her ass; she tightened her hands against the desk in surprise. It was restrained, a swat, a tease, a hint of what was to come. She shivered.

“_Count,_” he reminded, hand still cupping the curve of her.

“One.” 

The next hit was harder, in a different spot, at the edge where cheek met thigh and she would surely feel it in the morning, and the day after that, a throb when she sat that would remind her of Colt and his jealousy and the fact that she couldn’t help but using that jealousy to her advantage so they could get what they both wanted.

“Two.” 

The third hit landed on the other globe of her ass, slightly harder, vibrations of her flesh shooting waves of sensation through her body, into her core. Was it pleasure? Pain? Somewhere in the middle, in the hazy space where the only thing present, the only thing that mattered, was the impact of flesh on flesh and the heat slowly building in her core.

“Three.”

She thought of the first time, the very fist time. The first time his hand clipped her ass had been a swat, a tap, barely a spank, an otherwise unnotable contact while he was swiveling his hips and making her grip the headboard of his bed with fingers that were white at the knuckles. It would have been completely unnotable if not for the moan that tore through her throat, loud and wanton, audible over the sound of their flesh coming together. 

She flushed when she realized that she made the same noise tonight, only four hits in, her knuckles again starting to pale as she clutched the edge of his desk. 

“Four.”

She loved his hands, she really did. She loved his hands when he worked on his bike, deft fingers turning wrenches and finessing screws. She loved his hands when they gripped her hair or clutched her waist or made her ass bloom the most violent shade of crimson. She loved his hands when the fifth strike landed, down lower, almost her thigh, his other hand a steadying presence on the small of her back, centering her as the tension in her body climbed.

“Five.” 

And she adored his hands now, slipping though her folds to apply a fealther of pressure to her clit, dipping inside her entrance, a tease that made her thighs clench.

“Fuck, sweetheart, you’re so wet already.” And she was, _God_, she was, wet and needy and desperate. He wiped her wetness on her ass and chuckled. “Are you sure you can take five more?”

“Yes.” She nodded, frantically.

He chuckled again at the pleading tone of her voice. “Fuck, Ellie, you look so good like this.”

She could imagine it, naked over his desk with his handprints on her ass, biceps already shaking with the effort of staying still. “Please, Colt, mo-”

The slap on her ass cut her off and echoed around the room.

“Six.” 

Fuck, his hands could draw such pleasure from her, spinning it from her veins like a magician, a wave of fingers and slight of hand to make her melt into the sheets. She wanted to write odes about them, tapered graceful fingers again sliding inside of her so easy, where she was warm and wet and so so needy, needing those fingers to stroke and caress and fill her while she trembled around him. She barely had time to tense before those fingers were gone again and another hit landed.

“Seven.” 

His hands also bloomed bruises, dark spots of color, vivid on the curve of her ass, the back of her thigh, possessive marks and hand prints that brought tears to her eyes, curses to her lips, and blessed relief to her bones. She was trying to stop her body from shaking, from trembling underneath him; she was sure she couldn’t.

“Eight.”

Those hands were starting to hurt now, her whimpers almost as loud as the sound of his flesh hitting hers, but the pain was warm, comforting, sending vibrations throughout her body and centering in her core, making her want more, more pressure, more pain, more _anything_.

“Nine.”

She had to bite her lip and screw her eyelids shut, desperately trying to keep from begging, to keep from asking Colt to just fuck her here, against his desk, where her ass was reddened and her nails burrowed divots into the wood and she just needed him to slide his cock inside her and never stop the tortuous pleasure-pain taking over her mind and body.

“Ten.” 

She blinked the tears from her eyes and tried not to move, waiting, as he smoothed his palm over her ass. She could feel the phantom sting, the flush of blood raised to the surface; more prominent than that, however, was the wetness between her legs, slick down her thighs an obvious sign of her need. He was still behind her, not moving, and she needed-_Jesus_. She was sure he was admiring his work, the red on her ass, his hand prints on her. It would take hours to fade. She needed him to do _something_.

“Good girl. Come here, sweetheart.” 

“Colt, _please_.” Finally, she stood to face him, thighs trembling. “Colt, I need-”

**“Do you think you deserve my dick tonight?”**

She felt her eyes fill with tears again. She wanted-

“Kneel.” She was on her knees before she realized, looking up at him, waiting again for a command. “Suck me.”

Her fingers were clumsy and she needed two tries before she got the button, shaky fingers making the zipper catch before finally she could pull out his cock. He was so hard, long and thick in her hand, obviously as turned on by spanking her as she was as the recipient of the stinging blows. She relished the silky skin under her fingertips, hands running up and down, before she pulled the head of his cock into her mouth and sucked, hard, hollowing her cheeks to pull him in.

His hand flew to her hair, fisting the strands between his fingers, tight. The pain was sharp, sudden, welcome, and she moved her head forward in appreciation, taking more of him, deeper, and working her tongue up the vein so she could hear the rumble in his chest.

“Ellie, baby, _fuck_, so good.” She looked up to see dark eyes watching every slide of his cock between her lips. Holding his gaze, she pulled back so she could swirl her tongue around the head, giving a lusty suck. He cursed, low, before tightening his hold on her hand and urging her forward to take him deeper, again and again and again. 

She was taking him as deep as she could, throat straining with the effort, swallowing spit and precum in a dirty squelch as her hands ran over his thighs, his balls, any inch of him that she could reach to touch and feel, muscles shaking underneath her ministration.

“Sweetheart, fuck,” Colt whimpered, voice weak and completely undone. “Ellie, touch yourself. Baby, _please_.”

She couldn’t move fast enough, hand dropping down to find her clit, rough movements in time with the rhythm of her mouth. Dipping two fingers inside, she found she was as drenched as he said, slick positively leaking from her core, wetting her folds and making it so easy to draw rough circles around her clit as familiar warmth started building.

She moaned, sound lost with the cock in her mouth. He obviously felt the vibrations though; with one last tug of her hair, he eased her off his cock and pulled her to stand, hands rough on her arms and pulling her close so her could kiss her, rough, possessive, a testament of ownership in every swipe of his tongue and bite of his teeth. She was pliant and could only follow his lead as he moved her to the bed, nudging her onto all fours. He obviously couldn’t wait, didn’t even take his clothes off, just knelt behind her to kiss across her shoulder blades and down her spine, jeans rough on her reddened thighs.

She clutched the sheet under her fingers as lined himself up before sinking inside her, fully. The noise from her mouth startled even her, low and lusty and almost crazed, and he responded immediately, a deeper thrust that punched the air from her lungs.

“Ellie…baby…” It was incessant, the roll of his hips against hers, and her elbows dropped to the bed. She could barely stay upright, his strong fingers digging into her hipbones the only thing preventing her from collapsing in a mess of liquid, a puddle of need and longing and absolute desire where a person once was.

She couldn’t stop her chapped lips from forming moans, curses, noises of indeterminate origin. “Colt, _please_.” 

She couldn’t even think, could only hold on to the fabric gripped tightly between her fingers and shake. The heat was building with every drag of his cock inside her, every time his hips landed against the red of her ass, every time his jeans chafed against her sore thighs, impact enough to send throbbing warmth up her spine.

Her breaths were coming faster and faster, lungs struggling to provide oxygen to her weary body, when Colt pulled out of her. She gasped at the suddenness, feeling unpleasantly empty, groaning her displeasure into his bed; she heard him behind her, one wet stroke, another, and then a moan as he came, wet heat, liquid fire, landing on her handprint-marred skin, already so warm with the possessive impact of his blows, made hotter still by the streaks of white falling onto her body.

She couldn’t think, couldn’t keep up with the motions of his body, as he spread her legs and dove underneath her. She was still moaning, keening, desperate and hot and so close that, when he wrapped his hands around her thighs to pull her down to his mouth, it only took one gentle touch of that clever tongue underneath her, one press of the sharp edges of short fingernails curling into her ass. Then, she screamed, hurtling over the edge, pleasure radiating through her body and slamming through her brain until it was the only thing she knew and then everything is blessedly, quietly blank.

~~~~~

“Ellie?”

She was floating, far away, somewhere dark, where strong arms kept her warm and safe.

“Ellie?” The tinge of worry in his voice pulled her back, a gauzy tether returning her to earth. “Baby, you ok?”

“Yeah.” The timber of her voice spoke volumes, deep and soft. She couldn’t even open her eyes; it just took too much energy.

The arms were moving, all over, everywhere, all at once, in a dizzying pattern that she couldn’t follow. There were soft touches on her arms, her legs, so careful over the red of her ass, cool and calming on the heated skin. She moaned, unable to show her appreciation any other way, and the warmth against her cheek vibrated, a dark chuckle.

“I’m gonna clean you up now.”

She couldn’t answer, an assenting sigh the only noise she could make, and then there was something wet and soft, wiping where he spilled in streaks against the skin he scored. The feeling of regret was a surprise; she would have wanted to see the white in contrast to the flaming crimson, but it ebbed when he was next to her again, calming hands pulling her close and dropping a soft kiss to her forehead.

She was so tired, almost asleep curled against him when he spoke. “Only me.”

“Huh?” She opened her eyes and her lashed fluttered against his chest.

“You’re only this good for me. Only me. Not the guy at the sideshow.”

_Ah_. She had already forgotten about the sideshow. “You’re being silly. Only you.” She was fading fast, eyelids fighting a losing battle against her exhaustion. “The only one I ever want is you.”

“You have me,” Colt replied and she could feel him shifting against her, warm and comforting on her side.

“For forever?”

She couldn’t even stay awake to hear the answer, slipping into darkness.


End file.
